


Five Things Natasha Was to Clint

by LizzyBorg



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, five times fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 02:17:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2451005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzyBorg/pseuds/LizzyBorg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An abridged history of Natasha and Clint's relationship, told by recounting five instances in which Clint had to re-evaluate who Natasha is to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things Natasha Was to Clint

**Author's Note:**

> Includes very vague descriptions of violence and death.

The Target was behind the bar where she had met with this arms dealer, a man whose name Clint hadn’t bothered to learn. It was only her that mattered, according to Fury. She had to be brought down.

Clint watched her, watching her flash her clever eyes at the other man, purse her red lipsticked mouth, then step towards the man with the deliberate click of her heels. He was comically large but he still allowed her to back him against the wall, and to kiss him, dragging her nails through his hair. He pulled her against him, even, pressing his large hands to her rear that was barely covered by the silk dress. Clint couldn’t help but to admire her abilities; the man leaning against the wall was clumsy in his kisses, but the woman acted responsive anyways, pushing her tongue into his mouth and making small noises.

If he hadn’t known her true identity, Clint would feel embarrassed for watching them; instead, he watched her, another professional killer doing her job. He could admit it to himself, Clint was very impressed with The Target. In the month that he had been following her, he’d heard countless stories about her that made him at least a little disappointed to be pointing this gun at her, waiting for his moment.

The man below pulled away from Clint’s Target, gasping for air. The woman watched the man as he dropped to the ground, clutching at his heart. His mouth open and closed like a fish’s, as if he was trying to beg for help. _Must have been poison._ The Target stood above him as he died, then looked around her, taking everything in carefully.

Her eyes swept over the window where Clint was kneeling, and Clint ducked, biting his lip. _Shit_.

When he looked out again, The Target was nowhere to be seen. “Motherfucking fuck,” Clint said under his breath, then slid out of the second story window. He crouched as he landed, holding his gun in one hand and his knife in the other. The alleyway was still, and Clint stayed down, straining his senses to try to detect The Target.

Suddenly, there was a hard foot to his back, and Clint was facedown in the asphalt, He twisted his arm (the one with the knife) and stabbed at the leg attached to the foot. It was gone in a moment and he rolled over, feeling a body topple over beside him. It was The Target, who kicked at him with one of her stiletto heels, which broke skin on his leg and then snapped off. Clint was on top of her in a moment, holding her down with the entire weight over his body, which almost wasn’t enough. The Target was still struggling, glaring up at Clint. Somehow, her hair was still perfect.

Clint dropped the knife, and flicked the safety on the gun, pushing it away. “Come with me,” he said to his Target, “if you want to not die.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to The Lego Movie for my last dialogue line.


End file.
